


The Quartermaster

by Kryptaria



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MI6 is a rational place. Bond and Q are grown men. When the lights go out, there's no reason to be afraid.</p><p>Is there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quartermaster

**Author's Note:**

> A Halloween ficlet inspired by The Little Witch (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiKFEwI5YrI), a video inspired by a two-sentence spooky story.
> 
> Thanks so much to Jennybel75 for the last-minute beta!

“I would very much appreciate it if you’d _stop throwing your guns_ ,” Q said, rolling his eyes. He paused to swipe his keycard and gave Bond a wry smile over his shoulder.

Courteously, Bond reached past Q to open the office door. “In the field —”

“Yes, you use whatever’s at hand. You cannot tell me there wasn’t a convenient rock. Or your wallet. You could throw that,” Q scolded as he led the way into the office. The automatic lights flickered on, triggered by the motion sensors that Q had installed everywhere throughout the Q Branch tunnels.

“Weren’t you the one lecturing me about identity theft?” Bond teased. As soon as the door closed at his back with a soft click, he crossed the office in long strides to pull Q into his arms. “See, I _do_ listen.”

Q laughed and batted halfheartedly at Bond before finally surrendering to a brief, sweet kiss. “You’re my worst agent, James. A right pain in the arse.”

“But you love me,” Bond insisted as the lights gave another flicker.

“Mmm, I’d love you more if you’d check the electrical closet,” Q said, frowning up at the ceiling. “The power lines are protected against surges and noise.”

Bond didn’t let go. “Isn’t that your job? You’re the expert. You said the next time I so much as touch a fuse —”

“That you’d be doing paperwork for a month. I _know_ ,” Q said with another laugh. He wrapped his arms around Bond’s shoulders and gave him another quick kiss. “But I need to check on your best friend’s status, so I’m _busy_. Or would you like 006 to end up shot because we were snogging on company time?”

Bond drew breath to answer, only to cut himself off as the lights flickered again and died out. All around them, fans whirred to life. Backup power sources beeped in alarm and LEDs started blinking like bright little eyes peering out from the darkness. “At least your battery backups work.”

“Oh, well spotted, 007,” Q said wryly, voice echoing in the darkness. He took a step back, though he kept hold of Bond’s sleeve. “Give us a light, will you?”

Obligingly, Bond took out his cigarette lighter and flicked it on. Warm gold light cast hazy shadows against the walls and ceiling of the cavernous office. Q let go and went to his desk, where a twitch of his mouse brought his computer to life. His monitors threw an actinic white glow on his already pale skin.

“We’re fine,” he said with a relieved smile. He picked up his headset and said, “The circuit breakers please, James.” After another click of his mouse, he said, “006, this is HQ. Do you copy?”

Holding the lighter out in front of him, Bond went back out into the dark tunnel. The electrical junction was right next to Q’s office, hidden behind an industrial steel door covered with warning placards. He depressed the cold handle and opened the door, lifting the lighter.

Firelight flickered over the ash-pale face of his lover. Familiar hazel eyes, pupils huge and black with fear, stared out at him. Long, trembling fingers were wrapped around the grip of an MI6-issued Walther.

“Oh, thank god, James,” Q whispered, his voice tight with fear. _“There’s someone in my office.”_


End file.
